


Don't Ask

by readtolive



Series: Break my arms around the one I love [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readtolive/pseuds/readtolive
Summary: Five years after the events of the first part, Stiles is in a happy relationship but his boyfriend keeps asking about Derek Hale.Stiles doesn't take it well.





	Don't Ask

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a separate story. You won't be able to understand without reading the first part.

 

 

 

Sam’s nest of unruly, dark brown curls is massive enough to prevent Stiles from checking out the side view. He has to sag down and lean back deep into the passenger seat every time Stiles wants to change lanes.

“I got it, babe,” Stiles murmurs as he takes them towards their home in San Francisco, back from their visit to Beacon Hills.

Sam sits properly and shakes out his hair. Stiles squeezes his thigh gently, and gives him a small lopsided smile.

“I liked the kids best,” Sam declares in his deep, sonorous voice which Stiles loves. It almost always surprises him when he hears it because it stands in such contrast with Sam’s slender body. "Everyone's really cool, but the kids are the sweetest. And your dad."

“Ah,” Stiles smiles. “They are. Especially Tommy," he giggles.

Erica and Boyd’s kid is his favorite, not only because of his adorable cuteness and the fact that he painfully reminds Stiles of his own rascal years, pulling pranks left and right, but also because the kid has developed a deep attachment to Stiles and won’t leave his side every time he visits. "Just don’t tell anyone, or Scott will end me.”

“Pft,” Sam snorts. “Everybody knows Tommy’s your favorite. You’re as subtle as a rhino on steroids. I mean,” Sam grins, his full lips revealing a straight row of perfectly white, aligned teeth. “Everybody except Kinsley and Kristen, who are the ones you should be afraid of.” 

Stiles’ conscience does burn a little at that, for he is godfather to the girls. Scott and Kira’s daughters are two and four, and both perfect little angelic visions. Stiles loves them to pieces, he really does – but Tommy’s still the best. 

Sam fiddles with the music and finally settles on Morphine. “What’s up with Derek? He seems the only one not paired off.” 

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“You don’t say,” Sam rumbles, leaning into his boyfriend, purring into his ear. “Have you ruined him for everybody else, babe? Has no one managed to reach the heights of your sexual expertise?” Sam’s hand travels dangerously close to Stiles’ crotch.

“Hey, cut it out,” Stiles protests weakly. He bats at Sam’s mischievous hand, too horny to ignore it. They managed to refrain from sex during the week they spent under his father’s roof.

Sam sighs and flops back into his seat.

Stiles finally addresses Sam’s teasing. “It was just one night, Sam. And I didn’t know anything, I was such a... ignoramus. Anyway, no ruining occurred, believe you me.”

“So why’s he single? He’s too hot to be alone.” Sam pushes. “Don’t think I didn’t see you two talking on the porch during the game night. What did you talk about?”

“Jesus, babe,” Stiles murmurs, exasperated. He pushes his fingers through his hair. “You know, just catching up. My Berkeley years, my job, you… things like that. Life.”

“Did he tell you he regretted losing you?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He knows that Sam isn’t the jealous type; besides, the two of them are rock solid. He just wonders whence the second degree. Sam’s probably bored.

“It was five years ago. He probably doesn’t even remember. Forgot all about it.”

“Hmmm,” Sam pouts, clearly dissatisfied with his answer, but Stiles has already found a parking spot in front of their building.

“I’m hungry.”

“No,” Stiles pulls him out of the car.

“But my stomach’s rumbling.”

“No.”

As soon as they get inside, Stiles pushes him onto their bed, managing to pull off Sam’s jeans at the same time.

“Hey, hey, slow down, babe,” Sam rolls around and faces Stiles. “You okay?”

Stiles buries his face into his neck, trailing kisses and nipping at Sam’s tanned skin.

“I want you,” he breathes, tired and turned on. “I need this.”

Their lips finally meet, soft and warm tongues pushing and twisting against one another.

Stiles abruptly sits back on his heels and pulls at his t-shirt. “Turn around,” he says, reaching for the lube on their bedside table.

When he pushes inside, he sighs in relief and drops against Sam’s back, hiding his face in his hair. “Fuck. You feel good…” he whispers.

He starts thrusting and then keeps at it, without pause or change of position, until he feels familiar prickles in his spine and tightening in his balls.

“Shit,” he groans through his teeth when he comes, fucking into Sam until his dick churns the come and lube into whitish mush. “Shit. Sorry, babe.”

He flops next to Sam and kisses him sloppily. “Com’ere.”

He rearranges him until he can reach Sam’s elegant dick and starts pulling at it roughly. They kiss and bite at each other, Sam throwing his leg over Stiles’ hip and fucking up into Stiles’ fist. When he comes, he laughs a little.

Stiles grins at him. “We’re so bad. So, so bad. An' lazy. What a great bad fuck.”

He sighs and lies on his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I needed this.”

They are quiet for a while, just lying there, decompressing.

“So who fucked who?” Sam asks out of nowhere.

“Sweet zombie Jesus! What the fuck, Sam?” Stiles cries out, throwing his arms into air. “What’s gotten into you, huh? It was five years ago, damn it.”

“Just curious.” Sam wiggles his eyebrows, grinning with nonchalance. 

Stiles sighs. “He fucked me, alright? Happy now?”

“What’s his dick like?”

Stiles laughs finally, deciding that's the best way to navigate the situation. With humor. He pulls Sam into his arms. “Perfect. Just like the rest of him. Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get it, I guess. You told me about him before, but now that I’ve actually met him… I just don’t get why you let him go. He’s really something. You’re… you make a good pair. Aesthetically speaking.”

Stiles swallows around a lump in his throat. “It's complicated," he breathes sleepily. "It had to be that way. I waited and waited… for so long. Years, for him to say something, to make a move. It drove me mad… it hurt.” Stiles threads his fingers through Sam’s hair, speaking slowly. “I think he’s unable to have a relationship. There’s something about him that is… untamable. Even though I longed for him, I couldn’t imagine us as a couple, doing regular things… Can you imagine Derek Hale scrubbing the toilet bowl,” Stiles dissolves into a fit of giggles, Sam’s head bouncing on his chest. “Anyway… want a sandwich? I’m hungry.”

They move to the kitchen in their briefs, comfortable around each other. Sam sits at the counter and Stiles makes the sandwiches.

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I’ve watched him change Kinsley’s shitty diaper. I’d say he’s pretty capable of doing regular stuff.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? What do you want me to say?”

“What?" Sam challenges. "We’re just having a conversation. Why can’t we talk about him? What's he to you anyway, except the guy you lost your virginity to. He was never your boyfriend. I can’t even call him your ex.”

Stiles chops the tomatoes carefully. “You don’t understand,” he says, but he regrets it immediately.

Of course Sam can’t understand. He knows nothing about werewolves, packs and alphas, and he can never understand what Derek was to Stiles. Still is in a way.

Also, although Sam isn’t a jealous type, Stiles isn’t crazy enough to believe he can say something along the ‘we couldn’t be together because I loved him too much and I thought he didn’t love me enough’ line and survive unscathed.

During the deceptive lull in their conversation, Stiles manages to pour two glasses of orange juice. He can already feel the pangs of anxiety this talk is causing in him.

“He talked to me, too, you know,” Sam says.

“What?!” The tomato knife clatters against the counter. “Talked, like, _pass the pepper, please_ and _the weather is lovely today_ , or talked-talked?”

“Talked-talked. He asked me if you were happy.”

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. He can feel a headache creeping in as well. But his heart is beating a mile a minute, and he thanks all deities for the fact that Sam’s not a werewolf.

“I really don’t understand why the fuck he cares,” he murmurs into his chin, even though he does. He does.

Stiles knows perfectly well why he cares. It’s not like he has been out of touch with the pack. They visit each other, text and facetime constantly. They skyped during all three childbirths and Lydia and Jackson’s wedding which he was unable to attend because he was in Japan at the time.

So, Stiles is in the loop. He knows that Derek’s remained alone ever since their fateful… tryst. He also knows that the pack blames him for that. The pack, who have somehow found out and have their very strong opinions on the matter.

“Me, neither,” Sam says around his mouthful. “Especially because he knows you’re with me.”

Stiles frowns.“That’s weirdly exclusive. Are you saying he can’t care about my happiness because I’m in a relationship?”

“I guess not,” Sam says pensively. “Do you think he still cares about you, romantically?”

Stiles puts his food down, losing his appetite abruptly. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t think so? No, definitely not. I mean, so much time has passed, so many things have happened. But, he is a weirdo. Painfully stubborn. Who knows what’s in his head.”

“He also asked me something pretty strange. He asked how I told you that I love you. Not if I told you, or when I told you, but how. The logistics of it. If you liked it. If you were satisfied, I guess, with the execution? I’m not sure I understood him correctly, he’s not very eloquent. He apologized and everything, for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, but said that he really wanted to know. So strange.”

Stiles pales like a sheet and his palms turn clammy. “Shit.” He kicks at the cupboard in front of him. “Shit, shit, fuck.”

Sam jumps up, running to him. “Hey, hey, calm down, babe. Are you alright?”

But Stiles just buries his face into his hands. “I gotta lie down. I’m sorry. My head hurts.”

“No, I’m sorry, come on, let’s get you into bed. Come on. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Stiles lets Sam pull him towards the bed and falls limply across it. He hugs the pillow and closes his eyes. He breathes deeply, trying to calm down, and grabs Sam’s hand; but it’s not his face that he sees on the back of his eyelids.

His traitorous mind keeps projecting five-year-old blurry images against his translucent skin and Stiles whines.

 

 

 

 

the end


End file.
